Sheer Submission (Sheer Submission, Part One)

by Hannah Ford

  “Do you have champagne?” I asked hopefully.

  He opened a small door that was attached to a refrigerator that was built into the side of the car, pulled out a can of ginger ale, opened it, and poured it into a glass.

  “I said I wanted champagne.” I pushed the glass back at him.

  “Drink.”

  He was insistent, and the first flutters of trepidation started in my belly. Yes, he was famous and rich and sexy as all hell. But I didn’t know anything about Landon Sheer except for what I’d read in magazines. His brother might have kidnapped my sister, which didn’t exactly help when it came to the whole company you keep thing. And he’d somehow known my phone number and whereabouts.

  I stared at the glass, remembering how it had been drilled into my head never to accept a drink from a stranger. I’d seen him pour it, but still.

  I set it down in the built-in drink holder that was in the door.

  “I’m not thirsty.”

  “Relax,” he said, as the car pulled to a stop in front of a shiny silver skyscraper that I recognized as the headquarters of Sheer International. “You are free to leave any time, do you understand that, Ms. Courtland?”

  He was out of the car before I could answer and a second later he was opening my, reaching for my hand and helping me out of the car.

  He placed his hand on my back and guided me into the lobby – it was ornate, done in shades of black and silver. A security guard sat at a desk.

  He nodded. “Mr. Sheer.”

  “Jeffrey.” Landon nodded. “Please hold any visitors or calls.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You get visitors and calls at this hour?” I asked.

  “It’s only nine o’clock,” Landon said, as if I were his elderly grandmother who needed to be in bed by seven or something. He was leading me around the back of the elevator bank to a black door marked PRIVATE. He pressed his finger to a keypad, and the door opened, revealing a separate elevator.

  We took it up to the top floor.

  “De ja vu,” I said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “It’s just that this is exactly what you did at the party,” I said. “You took me in an elevator up to the top floor. Remember?”

  “Of course I remember, Ms. Courtland, it was just an hour ago.”

  “I was being sarcastic.”

  “I know.”

  The doors opened into another suite. This one was more … the first word that came to mind was official, but it wasn’t necessarily the word I was looking for. It was more businesslike, more professional, than the one at the hotel.

  The other suite could have been used for partying or sleeping off a hangover, while this one appeared more formal. There was a fireplace against one wall, and a huge, ornate table surrounded by padded leather chairs, with a huge flat screen attached to the wall. There was a couch and chairs set up around a low table, designed to be more intimate than the sitting area in the other suite. This suite had a balcony as well, although there was no pool here. The walls were bare.

  “Why did you bring me here?” I asked. “Why didn’t you just talk to me when we were back at the party?”

  “Are you always this skittish?” He was turning the lights on in the suite, moving from room to room, and he disappeared down the hallway for a moment, to what I assumed was the bedroom.

  “I’m not skittish.”

  “I wasn’t sure about the details of what I wanted to offer you when we were at the party,” he said, reappearing. “But then after you left, I began to think there was a way that both of us could get what we wanted.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Would you like a drink?”

  I shook my head. “No, I don’t want a soda,” I said, careful to enunciate the word. “I want to know why you brought me here, why you couldn’t just talk to me at the party.”

  “I had business to deal with at the party.” He was in the corner now, pouring himself a glass of scotch from behind a sleek mahogany bar.

  I watched him, remembering again the way he’d looked without his shirt on, and when he looked up, his eyes caught mine. So blue. I looked away.

  He didn’t say anything for a while, instead just crossed the room and opened the doors to the balcony. A cool breeze came floating in, reminding me exactly of what had happened at the party. Why hadn’t he just talked to me there?

  “Mr. Sheer, if you aren’t intending to help me find my sister, then I’m sorry, but – ”

  “Come.”

  “I’m… pardon me?”

  He grinned devilishly at the double entendre, revealing perfect, straight white teeth. “Out onto the balcony, Ms. Courtland. Come.”

  I followed him.

  “No pool out here?” I asked snottily. “I would think that a man whose time is worth so much money would have a pool in every port.” And a woman.

  “I find it’s better not to mix business with pleasure.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that this suite is for business purposes, and when I bring colleagues to the suite in my hotel, they have a penchant for swimming and tomfoolery instead of concentrating on the task at hand.” He turned to look at me, and that same feeling of warmth started in my stomach and pooled between my legs.

  It was a cool night, but I felt wired and hot.

  “Do you have a boyfriend, Aven?” He asked the question like he already knew the answer.

  “No.” My head was swimming. Why was he asking me if I had a boyfriend?

  “It’s important that you’re honest with me about that.” His blue eyes studied my face, as if he were trying to figure out if I really was telling the truth. I had a feeling that he would be able to tell, too. It must have been a bitch to work for this man – he was demanding and could smell bullshit from a mile away.

  “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  “Good. That’s not a complication I’m willing to entertain.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Sheer, but I must admit that I have no idea what you’re talking about. And unless you’re going to tell me, then I should leave.”

  “You want my help in locating your sister, is that correct?”

  “Yes. I mean, it doesn’t have to be actively. I believe –I mean, I’m pretty sure -- that she’s with your brother, and so I want to know if there’s a way to get in touch with him. If you just wanted to give me his number, I’m sure I can take it from there.”

  “You’re a smart girl,” he said, leaning against the balcony and swirling his drink around in its tumbler. “You must understand that if I wanted to locate your sister, I could.”

  “How do you know I’m smart?”

  He shrugged, as if it were a given. He leaned back against the railing, and he looked like some kind of magazine spread, with the city lights spread out behind him, his striking good looks accentuated by his perfectly tailored suit. “Magna cum laude from Providence, B.A. in business management, accepted to three MBA programs, which you chose to defer so you could work for a year.”

  “How did you know all that?” My mouth was dry, and for the first time, I was thankful that he hadn’t given me any alcohol. I’d never been a good drinker, and anything that was going to dull my senses wouldn’t have been a good idea.

  “I’m good at research.”

  “That goes a bit beyond research.”

  He didn’t say anything, and finally, when the silence was unbearable, I broke it.

  “So what’s the proposal?” My hands curled into fists by my side as I waited to hear what he said. Every ounce of my mind told me to get the hell out of there, and yet something was making me stay, my feet rooted to the ground as if they were glued.

  He set his glass down on a glass table and looked at me. “I want to fuck you, Ms. Courtland.”

  “Jesus.” The words were so unexpected, so …blatant, that I found myself shocked. And yet, even as I knew I should have been outraged at his brashness, at his arrogance, that throbbing
between my legs intensified.

  “Do you want to fuck me?”

  I licked my bottom lip and looked away from him. The way he was staring at me, those gorgeous blue eyes locked on my frame as if he were a hunter seizing up his pray was making me wet.

  I walked to the balcony railing and grabbed it, trying to steady myself.

  “I don’t even know you.”

  “That wasn’t the question.” His voice was a low growl against my ear. He’d come across the balcony toward me, and I could feel his presence behind me, his breath warm against my skin. “I won’t touch you unless you agree to my terms.”

  Him being behind me was disorienting, so I turned around.

  It was a mistake.

  He was right there, so close that I could feel the heat radiating off of him through his dress shirt. I could see the tiny bit of stubble that was starting to dust his cheeks, giving him a rakish, dangerous look. His eyes were deep blue pools, and I closed my eyes.

  “What are your terms?” I asked, even as my mind screamed at me to stop. I wasn’t seriously considering this, was I? It was insane. Exchanging sex for help with finding my sister?

  “I will help you find Violet,” he said, putting his hands on the railing behind me, effectively pinning me in. And yet, true to his promise, he didn’t touch me.

  “And?”

  “And until she’s found, you will be mine.”

  “I’ll … I mean, we’ll have sex.”

  “We’ll fuck.”

  My heart pounded.

  “Does that word make you uncomfortable, Ms. Courtland?” Amusement danced in his eyes, the kind of amusement that came from knowing you were making someone uncomfortable.

  “No.”

  “Say it.” His voice was a command.

  I stayed silent, and looked away.

  “If this is going to work, you’re going to have to do things you’re uncomfortable with.”

  “Like?”

  “Like saying the word fuck.”

  “Fuck.”

  His jaw tensed, his eyes lighting with electricity and fire. I liked the way the word sounded on my lips, and I liked even more the way he looked at me after I said it, like he couldn’t wait to devour me.

  “Do we have a deal?” he asked.

  “Prostitution is illegal,” I tried in a last ditch effort to put a stop to this madness. Certainly the thought of breaking the law would be enough to snap me out of the reverie he’d put me in, to make me get back to my senses and realize this was crazy.

  “Is that what this is?” His tone was teasing, and he moved a tiny bit closer to me. My nipples hardened into points under my dress. Traitors.

  “It seems like it,” I said. “Exchanging goods or services for sex.”

  “For fucking.” He dropped his head now, and I could feel his breath skating against my collarbone as he spoke.

  “What?”

  “Exchanging goods or services for fucking,” he said again. “Rule Number One, Ms. Courtland. Whenever you talk about sex, you will refer to it as fucking.”

  I swallowed, and his eyes flicked down to my throat.

  “God, you’re all flushed.” His voice was a ragged promise, like he knew exactly what he wanted to do to me and how he was going to do it. “Are you always this embarrassed talking about fucking?”

  “I’m not embarrassed.”

  “Then say it.”

  “Fucking.”

  “What about it?”

  My heart was pounding now, so fast that I was sure he could hear it. Being near him was like trying to fight against a rip current – it was powerful and more in control than you could ever be, and once you thought perhaps you’d figured out a way to outsmart it, it just changed directions and you were right back where you started.

  “Say it, Aven,” Landon whispered. “Say it.”

  “I want you to fuck me.”

  “Good girl.” The way he said it made me crave his praise again.

  “Rule Number Two.” His head was lowered again, and his lips were skating over my collarbone. “When I am fucking you, you will call me sir. Do you understand?”

  “Um… I’m not…”

  His hand slid up my side, over my arm, until he met the neckline of my dress. His fingers traced where the material hit my skin.

  “I mean, why do I have to call you sir?” I asked.

  “Because you’re mine, angel.” His hand moved to the back of my neck, and then he kissed me.

  It was like an explosion. His lips were warm and surprisingly soft, and yet the kiss was anything but. He sucked my bottom lip gently, then probed at the seam of my lips with tongue, parting them.

  Our tongues tangled, and the whole time he guided the kiss, holding the back of my neck roughly as he deepened the connection, probing, exploring, claiming. My knees went weak as the stubble on his chin rubbed against my skin, and I reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck.

  My whole body felt like was filled with tiny fireworks, each one being set off by the last, as if each firework was in a line, like dominos, each one igniting off the one before it.

  When he finally pulled away, I was breathless.

  “Rule number three,” he said, his hand tangling in the strands of my hair and pulling hard. “If you defy me, or break any of my rules, there will be punishments.”

  “Punishments?”

  “Yes. Do you understand?”

  I nodded.

  “Out loud.”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, what?” he prompted.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good.” He pulled back and ran his finger over my bottom lip. “God, you are perfect.”

  I looked away. I wasn’t used to being kissed like that, and I certainly wasn’t used to being told I was perfect.

  He took my hand and led me back into the suite, down the hall and into the bedroom. The room was sparsely decorated -- a king-sized bed covered in a silk black comforter, two glass end tables, and a pair of French doors that opened to yet another balcony.

  Landon stood behind me and took the zipper of my dress between his fingers.

  “Do you understand that you’ve already broken the rules?” he asked.

  “What? When?”

  “Earlier, when I told you to get into the elevator, and you didn’t.” He began to unzip the dress, slowly, and I closed my eyes as cool air hit my skin. Landon’s knuckles slid over my spine as the zipper went lower, and goose bumps bloomed all over my body.

  I said a silent prayer that I was wearing a black lacy strapless bra and a matching thong. I usually wasn’t so particular about my lingerie choices – after all, it wasn’t like anyone was going to see them – but I’d had no choice with this dress to wear my one strapless bra, and the panties just happened to be clean.

  “Jesus,” Landon breathed as he pulled the zipper over the curve of my ass. It pooled on the floor around my black heels.

  “Step out of it,” he instructed.

  I stepped out of it.

  “Are we going to fuck now?” I asked. I was a virgin, and the thought of telling him this terrified me. Not because I didn’t want him - God, I wanted him so bad - but because I thought it might scare him off.

  “Not yet, Aven. Do you remember what I just told you?”

  “That I broke your rules.”

  “That’s right.” He was pulling off his suit coat now, his broad shoulders coming into view. “And do you remember what I told you happens when you break my rules?”

  “That I’ll be punished.”

  “That’s right.”

  He began to remove his cufflinks, and as he did, panic shot through me. What did he mean by punishments? My stomach twisted, realizing once again that I knew nothing about this man, that I was taking him at his word that he could help me find Violet, and yet I didn’t know if it was true. No one even knew where I was right now. Talk about stupid and reckless.

  And yet, underneath all of this, my pussy pulsed with need, and my
nipples were two gumdrops poking out under the sheer material of my bra.

  The danger of him, of not knowing what he was going to do to me, was a turn on.

  But the biggest turn on was him.

  I watched as Landon began to roll up his sleeves, like he was getting ready to handle a problem. And I was the problem.

  He walked across the room and sat down on the bed.

  “Come.”

  I walked to him.

  “Slowly. I want to watch your body.”

  I slowed down, letting his gaze lingered on my body. My nipples puckered even more and I grew warm.

  “Have you ever taken a spanking, Ms. Courtland?”

  I shook my head no.

  “Do you know what a safe word is?”

  I shook my head no. I had an idea, but I wasn’t about to offer it up in case I was wrong.

  “You will say it if you need me to stop, and whatever I’m doing, I will stop immediately, no questions asked. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.” The sir came out automatically this time, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

  “What would you like your safe word to be, angel?”

  I thought about it. “Champagne,” I said, tipping my chin in the air defiantly.

  The side of his mouth twitched, and then his jaw hardened. “Sit on my lap.”

  I sat down on his lap, and he pulled me to him, kissing me again, slow at first and then deeper, harder, until finally, he grabbed my hips and flipped me over so that I was over his knee. I gasped at the violence of his movement.

  His hand rubbed the globe of my ass.

  I was in just my bra and panties and heels – there was no barrier between him and my bare ass. I pulled in a breath through my nose and held it, waiting for what I knew was about to come.

  He continued to run his hand over my backside, then pulled back and struck me. A red hot pain seared my skin, then soon gave way to a calming pleasure.

  I let out of the breath I’d been holding.

  Landon spanked me again, this time harder, and I made my hands into fists against the hardwood floor, my nails biting into my skin as I waited for the pain to morph back into pleasure.

  “Are you wet, Aven?”